the tough get bitchy. I have been walking around for the last two weeks feeling as though I'm on the shortest string ever. There's just so much crap, and while I know that I have lots to be thankful for (blah, blah, blah), all I really want to do at this point is lay around in bed and let people feel sorry for me.
I will now proceed to rant. Please, feel free to ignore.
Gripe the first - why is the Bear so damn sick? She has that delightful hacking cough that children get - you know, the one where they cough and cough and cough in spasms until they turn blue and choke and then projectile vomit? Yes, that cough. I'm assuming all of your children have it as well. At any rate, she's been coughing like that nonstop since October 1st. Count them: 45 days. Three trips to the doctor, two rounds of antibiotics, two types of cough syrup, a nebulizer for breathing treatments (I miss my asthma), and 45 nights of no sleep. And the doctor(s) can't seem to find anything wrong with her. What could this be? Any thoughts?
Gripe the second - why is it that medical procedures that are supposed to improve your condition leave you feeling worse? I had a big rubber hose shoved in my kidney to keep it functioning until the baby comes and they can take out the small boulder growing in there. This "procedure" was supposed to relieve the constant back pain or "renal colic" that I've been living with since June. Of course, now the damn thing is causing more pain than I had to start with - figures. And, the best part? The other end pushes on the top of my bladder, so even when I don't have a thing in there, I feel the constant immediate burning need to pee. Even more than I already did. Isn't that fun? There are literally some days when I can't stand up. And that's annoying to me - and to the Bear, who has no idea why she can't climb all over me.
Gripe the third - Braxton-Hicks. Really strong and frequent Braxton-Hicks. Like every time I stand up, bend over, cough, sneeze, change positions in bed, etc. Have been having them since 15 weeks (although they just keep getting stronger and more frequent). They're not painful, but man, is it hard to pick up a toddler when your stomach is like a rock.
Gripe the fourth - Husband is driving me crazy. He claims I can't do any housework (and rightly so - see above), and that he will "take care of things" himself. Yeah, well, his idea of taking care of things is driving me up the damn wall. Dishes never done when they should be, no laundry done at all, no cleaning accomplished whatsoever, trash and junk everywhere... All he's managed to do is overspend our monthly budget. I could have done that myself! Thanks for the "help," jackass!
Gripe the fifth - This whole flu / bird flu thing. It creeps me out how much everyone keeps fixating on it. If we're all going to die, then we're all going to die, but do they have to make everyone paranoid on top of it? Bear has had her shot, which is good, because with lungs like hers, I feel fairly confident that a bout of flu could land her in the hospital for an extended time. Grrr. Why can't we all stay healthy for five freaking minutes?!
Gripe the sixth - It's a full moon. Children are weird when there's a full moon. I may have to stay home from work until it starts to wane... it's that or beating them about the head and face with a sack full of doorknobs.
So, house a mess, Bear sick, Husband sick, me in constant pain, new baby (it's a girl) the only healthy normal one around, no time, no money, and in-laws coming for turkey day. Please, if I tell you where I live, won't you come over and shoot me now?
::end rant::
Monday, November 14, 2005
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Man, do I suck at this game
So, after promising no more long hiatii (also promising to find out what exactly the plural of hiatus is), I took another long one. If anyone had ever explained to me just exactly how tired you can get if you work 10 hours a day and have a toddler and are 21 weeks pregnant, I never would have believed them. I also would have quit my job and never had sex again.
Needless to say, nobody ever explained it to me, and here I am, as you see me now, hauling my ever-increasing ass around behind me in a sling. Yes, Internet, I am dumb. Trust me when I say that I will never, ever do this again. Husband is going to take up residence on the couch until I hit menopause. And he better take one of the babies with him.
So much has happened - blah blah blah school, blah blah blah work, blah blah blah grading, blah blah blah going to the hospital to have a drinking straw shoved into my kidney in a feeble attempt to keep the softball that lives there from plugging it up and killing me. Those are the small things.
Then there are the *big* things. Super big. Huge! The Bear now walks. On two feet. Like a human! (And it only took her 15 months, for those of you who are counting and secretly gloating that your child is more developmentally advanced than mine. And to you, I say, "Bite me.") She also has a vocabulary of more than 20 words and several signs. Her latest words include "rocker" (she got a Bear-sized rocking chair recently) and "oh, no!" which she uses whenever something doesn't quite suit her (can't find daddy, all out of bananas, dropped the toy, etc.) It's pretty cute - she sounds very distressed when she says it. She stacks blocks (and various other things - sliced carrots, for example) and then knocks them down. She is obsessed with keys and locks. If the lock is big enough, she will stick the key into it. If not, she will still try diligently for ages to make it work. She also likes tools. A lot. And books, and playing the piano. She actually pokes one note at a time with her pointer finger, rather than banging her fists on it, which is nice. Husband plays, and sometimes they play little duets. Very charming, if I do say so myself.
So, here's a little story which pretty much illustrates what life is like at my house. Husband dresses the Bear and takes her to daycare in the mornings. He's on a late shift, so they play for a few hours and have breakfast when she gets up, which is very cool for them. Then he goes to work, and I pick her up when I get off. Being a man, his taste in little girl clothes is not always what it should be. The other day I went to pick her up only to find her dressed in a plaid flannel shirt. The daycare ladies were singing the lumberjack song and she was dancing to it. (Since she is still bald, she totally looked like a boy. Rar.) Then, when it got cold, I left a note reminding Husband to put a coat on her. When I picked her up, she had a coat in a 6 month size, which covered hardly any of her belly - and a hood that only covered the back of her head. THEN I picked her up just yesterday and saw that her shirt was on *backwards*, with buttons up the front and a little tag sticking out under her chin. I wrote a very snotty note to Husband about how he should take the same care in dressing her that he does in dressing himself - make sure it fits, put it on the right way. I was a little superior-sounding, in that whole I'm-the-mommy-and-only-I-can-do-it-the-right-way tone that we mothers can get. Then, after watching the last game of the Series (yay, Sox!) I went upstairs to bed. As I fumbled around for my jammies, I took off my maternity pants only to realize that I HAD BEEN WEARING THEM BACKWARD. ALL. DAY. LONG. Big fat maternity elastic? In the back... I had to erase my note because I didn't want to be a hypocrite. No more getting dressed in the dark for me! Also? I need more sleep!
Needless to say, nobody ever explained it to me, and here I am, as you see me now, hauling my ever-increasing ass around behind me in a sling. Yes, Internet, I am dumb. Trust me when I say that I will never, ever do this again. Husband is going to take up residence on the couch until I hit menopause. And he better take one of the babies with him.
So much has happened - blah blah blah school, blah blah blah work, blah blah blah grading, blah blah blah going to the hospital to have a drinking straw shoved into my kidney in a feeble attempt to keep the softball that lives there from plugging it up and killing me. Those are the small things.
Then there are the *big* things. Super big. Huge! The Bear now walks. On two feet. Like a human! (And it only took her 15 months, for those of you who are counting and secretly gloating that your child is more developmentally advanced than mine. And to you, I say, "Bite me.") She also has a vocabulary of more than 20 words and several signs. Her latest words include "rocker" (she got a Bear-sized rocking chair recently) and "oh, no!" which she uses whenever something doesn't quite suit her (can't find daddy, all out of bananas, dropped the toy, etc.) It's pretty cute - she sounds very distressed when she says it. She stacks blocks (and various other things - sliced carrots, for example) and then knocks them down. She is obsessed with keys and locks. If the lock is big enough, she will stick the key into it. If not, she will still try diligently for ages to make it work. She also likes tools. A lot. And books, and playing the piano. She actually pokes one note at a time with her pointer finger, rather than banging her fists on it, which is nice. Husband plays, and sometimes they play little duets. Very charming, if I do say so myself.
So, here's a little story which pretty much illustrates what life is like at my house. Husband dresses the Bear and takes her to daycare in the mornings. He's on a late shift, so they play for a few hours and have breakfast when she gets up, which is very cool for them. Then he goes to work, and I pick her up when I get off. Being a man, his taste in little girl clothes is not always what it should be. The other day I went to pick her up only to find her dressed in a plaid flannel shirt. The daycare ladies were singing the lumberjack song and she was dancing to it. (Since she is still bald, she totally looked like a boy. Rar.) Then, when it got cold, I left a note reminding Husband to put a coat on her. When I picked her up, she had a coat in a 6 month size, which covered hardly any of her belly - and a hood that only covered the back of her head. THEN I picked her up just yesterday and saw that her shirt was on *backwards*, with buttons up the front and a little tag sticking out under her chin. I wrote a very snotty note to Husband about how he should take the same care in dressing her that he does in dressing himself - make sure it fits, put it on the right way. I was a little superior-sounding, in that whole I'm-the-mommy-and-only-I-can-do-it-the-right-way tone that we mothers can get. Then, after watching the last game of the Series (yay, Sox!) I went upstairs to bed. As I fumbled around for my jammies, I took off my maternity pants only to realize that I HAD BEEN WEARING THEM BACKWARD. ALL. DAY. LONG. Big fat maternity elastic? In the back... I had to erase my note because I didn't want to be a hypocrite. No more getting dressed in the dark for me! Also? I need more sleep!
Sunday, October 02, 2005
A series of unfortunate... well, you know.
My family is in the clutches of a man named Murphy... you know, the guy with the law. This weekend was supposed to be a time of family togetherness, a chance to get away, a mini vacation. Alas, that's not quite the way it turned out.
We (Husband, Bear, and I) were supposed to go to my cousin's wedding. It was in another state, and so we were going to make a weekend of it. We both took off on Friday so that we could drive down, and we planned to come back on Sunday. This was a fairly big deal to us, since we don't get out that often. We bought a new dress for the Bear to wear, since she only ever wears jeans and t-shirts. With the dress we had to buy tights and shoes, since she had neither. Husband had to get a new suit, since he's, um, grown a bit since our marriage. I had to get a dress, since all my dresses are for skinny people, and I definitely don't qualify for that right now (18 weeks today - the belly is definitely making its presence known). Then we had to get a gift, a card, fill the car with gas, buy snacks for the road, etc. Let's just say that we had invested some serious resources into this trip.
Well, Wednesday at about 3:30 the Bear's daycare calls me at work to tell me that her temperature is over 101 and we need to come pick her up. We give her Tylenol, let her run around naked, push lots of water, and put her to bed at about 5:30. She wakes up intermittently during the night, and her fever fluctuates between 102 and 103.6. She still eats and seems happy, so we're not extremely worried. Thursday morning her fever is down enough that we can legally take her to daycare. I bundle her up, give her more Tylenol, and hope she'll make it for at least an hour, long enough for me to whip up some sub plans. Husband ends up having to go get her around 10 because her fever is up, and she spends the rest of the day sleeping and running a pretty high fever. When I come home after school, we call the doctor and make an appointment for Friday morning. I've pretty much decided by this time that we aren't going to make it to the wedding, because who wants to spend 7 hours in a car with a sick baby, and what if she got sicker, it's really not fair to her, etc. etc. etc. I'm already off on Friday anyway, so I can just stay home with her.
Thursday night around 1 a.m., she wakes up and her fever has spiked to 103.8. We're very worried, but we give her more water and medicine, and put her back to sleep. She's up again at 5, and as soon as I walk in the room I can smell her. She has had the most explosive poo I think I've ever seen her have. It was like something died in there - way worse than normal poo smell. Anyway, we end up changing her, her clothes, her sheets, her blankets, you name it. We had to throw her onesie away... up her back, up her tummy, in her belly button... It took us half an hour together to clean her and get her back in bed. Then, when she woke up at 8, her temperature was back down to 98. She was happy, normal, she ate a good breakfast. We thought we were out of the woods, so I called the doctor, cancelled her appointment, and we started packing up to leave. It took us all morning to pack and get the three of us ready for the road. By the time we finally got going, it was after noon. We drove and drove and drove, and stopped for gas in The Middle Of Nowhere. And I mean Nowhere.* When we stopped, I changed the Bear and checked her temperature again. And lo and behold, it was back up to 102.
So, we turned around and drove *back*. Four hours and half a tank of gas later, we ended up in the exact same place we started from. We put the Bear down to nap at 4:30, and she slept for 16 hours straight. (Well, we woke her up once to make her drink something and give her more medicine.) Since then, the Bear has followed a pretty predictable routine. Her temperature breaks in the early morning, she's ok until after lunch, and then by 2 it spikes back up again, and stays high for the rest of the day/night.
At any rate, I'm pretty bitter by this point. I know it's not the Bear's fault that she's sick, but I had really wanted to go to this wedding, plus now we're out several hundred bucks for nothing. Grrr. So, most of my weekend was spent growling at people.
Then, Saturday night, as I'm sitting on the couch in my jammies, grading papers, my dad calls. My 86 year old grandmother fell down on the dance floor at the wedding and broke her hip. So now she's in the hospital and has to have a hip replacement, since they apparently can't just patch it up. And that worries me, because she's old and fragile, and we're very close. It worries me a lot.
So, instead of dancing, eating cake, and hanging out with my family, my weekend has been spent wrangling a grouchy sick Bear, eating junk food, and sitting on the couch in my jammies, feeling sorry for us. Yeargh.
Well, I had more to say, but the overall tone of this is so negative and making me feel sorry for myself all over again, that I'll have to save it for another day. Although I do feel slightly better for having vented.
Next time: my thoughts on the new Cub - boy or girl?
*Oh, and in my wanderings, we stopped at the only McDonald's in North America without a changing station in the ladies' room. I was so incensed by this that I went out to the front, berated the manager, and threatened to change the Bear on the front counter, right between the cash registers. Ok, their food is bad for you anyway, and they're poisoning America's children, but this was the last straw. I refuse to ever patronize one of their establishments again. And, if you have children (or know someone who does), I encourage you to do the same. These morons should know that most of their business comes from moms with small kids anyway, what with the Happy Meals, what with the PlayPlace. What self-respecting business wants to alienate its core demographic by forcing them to change sick babies in the backseats of cars in the middle of their parking lots in the hot sun? Not to mention the oh-so-bad-for-you food. McDonald's = pure evil.
We (Husband, Bear, and I) were supposed to go to my cousin's wedding. It was in another state, and so we were going to make a weekend of it. We both took off on Friday so that we could drive down, and we planned to come back on Sunday. This was a fairly big deal to us, since we don't get out that often. We bought a new dress for the Bear to wear, since she only ever wears jeans and t-shirts. With the dress we had to buy tights and shoes, since she had neither. Husband had to get a new suit, since he's, um, grown a bit since our marriage. I had to get a dress, since all my dresses are for skinny people, and I definitely don't qualify for that right now (18 weeks today - the belly is definitely making its presence known). Then we had to get a gift, a card, fill the car with gas, buy snacks for the road, etc. Let's just say that we had invested some serious resources into this trip.
Well, Wednesday at about 3:30 the Bear's daycare calls me at work to tell me that her temperature is over 101 and we need to come pick her up. We give her Tylenol, let her run around naked, push lots of water, and put her to bed at about 5:30. She wakes up intermittently during the night, and her fever fluctuates between 102 and 103.6. She still eats and seems happy, so we're not extremely worried. Thursday morning her fever is down enough that we can legally take her to daycare. I bundle her up, give her more Tylenol, and hope she'll make it for at least an hour, long enough for me to whip up some sub plans. Husband ends up having to go get her around 10 because her fever is up, and she spends the rest of the day sleeping and running a pretty high fever. When I come home after school, we call the doctor and make an appointment for Friday morning. I've pretty much decided by this time that we aren't going to make it to the wedding, because who wants to spend 7 hours in a car with a sick baby, and what if she got sicker, it's really not fair to her, etc. etc. etc. I'm already off on Friday anyway, so I can just stay home with her.
Thursday night around 1 a.m., she wakes up and her fever has spiked to 103.8. We're very worried, but we give her more water and medicine, and put her back to sleep. She's up again at 5, and as soon as I walk in the room I can smell her. She has had the most explosive poo I think I've ever seen her have. It was like something died in there - way worse than normal poo smell. Anyway, we end up changing her, her clothes, her sheets, her blankets, you name it. We had to throw her onesie away... up her back, up her tummy, in her belly button... It took us half an hour together to clean her and get her back in bed. Then, when she woke up at 8, her temperature was back down to 98. She was happy, normal, she ate a good breakfast. We thought we were out of the woods, so I called the doctor, cancelled her appointment, and we started packing up to leave. It took us all morning to pack and get the three of us ready for the road. By the time we finally got going, it was after noon. We drove and drove and drove, and stopped for gas in The Middle Of Nowhere. And I mean Nowhere.* When we stopped, I changed the Bear and checked her temperature again. And lo and behold, it was back up to 102.
So, we turned around and drove *back*. Four hours and half a tank of gas later, we ended up in the exact same place we started from. We put the Bear down to nap at 4:30, and she slept for 16 hours straight. (Well, we woke her up once to make her drink something and give her more medicine.) Since then, the Bear has followed a pretty predictable routine. Her temperature breaks in the early morning, she's ok until after lunch, and then by 2 it spikes back up again, and stays high for the rest of the day/night.
At any rate, I'm pretty bitter by this point. I know it's not the Bear's fault that she's sick, but I had really wanted to go to this wedding, plus now we're out several hundred bucks for nothing. Grrr. So, most of my weekend was spent growling at people.
Then, Saturday night, as I'm sitting on the couch in my jammies, grading papers, my dad calls. My 86 year old grandmother fell down on the dance floor at the wedding and broke her hip. So now she's in the hospital and has to have a hip replacement, since they apparently can't just patch it up. And that worries me, because she's old and fragile, and we're very close. It worries me a lot.
So, instead of dancing, eating cake, and hanging out with my family, my weekend has been spent wrangling a grouchy sick Bear, eating junk food, and sitting on the couch in my jammies, feeling sorry for us. Yeargh.
Well, I had more to say, but the overall tone of this is so negative and making me feel sorry for myself all over again, that I'll have to save it for another day. Although I do feel slightly better for having vented.
Next time: my thoughts on the new Cub - boy or girl?
*Oh, and in my wanderings, we stopped at the only McDonald's in North America without a changing station in the ladies' room. I was so incensed by this that I went out to the front, berated the manager, and threatened to change the Bear on the front counter, right between the cash registers. Ok, their food is bad for you anyway, and they're poisoning America's children, but this was the last straw. I refuse to ever patronize one of their establishments again. And, if you have children (or know someone who does), I encourage you to do the same. These morons should know that most of their business comes from moms with small kids anyway, what with the Happy Meals, what with the PlayPlace. What self-respecting business wants to alienate its core demographic by forcing them to change sick babies in the backseats of cars in the middle of their parking lots in the hot sun? Not to mention the oh-so-bad-for-you food. McDonald's = pure evil.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Back from the dead...
Wow... we were without Internet for quite a while there! We're still without air conditioning, but that I can live with. We're also without organization, which is going to kill me very soon here!
So, a brief rundown for the 82 of you who check this on a regular basis:
We moved. We own a house now, and nobody ever told us how much work that involved! Every spare minute is filled with one project or another. Some are functional, some are cosmetic... It will be a nice house when we do a little fixing, I think. Nobody has loved this place in a very long time. So sad. But we love it and we are willing to do the work to restore it to what it should be (it's very, very old).
Work is work. I had a marathon grading session last weekend that lasted, I sh*t you not, 18 hours. It was awful. Husband is threatening to take the Bear and leave me if I ever do that again! (Maybe now he'll appreciate just how much I do around here. Hmmm.) Anyway, still liking the new job, although it was a full moon last week and that makes children a little nutty. Yeargh.
Finally, an answer to the nagging intense pain! I have a 2 cm kidney stone in my right kidney! It's centimeters, not millimeters. Go ahead, get a ruler. I did. That's really. freaking. big. So, am a little worried about this. No way is that coming out the old-fashioned way. No sir. Not happening. But, they can't break it up with the sound wave thingies that they use because I'm pregnant. So, my OB sent me to a urologist, and we'll see what happens after that visit.
The Bear is still not walking. I'm a little concerned about that, since she's almost 14 months now. Shouldn't she be walking? She'll take a few steps here and there, usually not more than four, but that's still decent progress, I suppose. Then, too, she's saying more and more words. She will poke my tummy and say "baby," she says "dark," "down," "bye," and "eye." Also "mom" and "da." She waves hi and bye, and will blow kisses and high-five on request. Also, when you ask her if she wants more food, she makes the sign for "more" and says "yeah!" She's been a lot of fun lately, and she's adjusting nicely to the new BearCave.
I'll be 17 weeks on Sunday. Feeling little pokes and flutters, but nothing too crazy. I felt the Bear at 15 weeks, and I swear about 13 weeks this time I could feel the bubbles. I'm only up about 5 pounds, which is great compared to last time (20 pounds by now). If it wasn't for the kidney, I'd be feeling great. That and the fact that I pass out on the couch every night about 8 p.m. I have some pretty strong boy vibes this time, which is interesting. We'll have to wait and see what comes out. I'm still waiting for the dream. Last time, I had the dream by about 20 weeks, and I knew the Bear was a girl. Hopefully I'll have a similar dream this time - it was really cool! There's a lot to be said for intuition. We have a nice boy name picked out, so I really am leaning that way. We'll just have to see!
Well, those are all the recent developments, I think. I'm back for good now, so no more 20+ day hiatuses (hiatii?) for me. Off to do more grading - bleargh.
So, a brief rundown for the 82 of you who check this on a regular basis:
We moved. We own a house now, and nobody ever told us how much work that involved! Every spare minute is filled with one project or another. Some are functional, some are cosmetic... It will be a nice house when we do a little fixing, I think. Nobody has loved this place in a very long time. So sad. But we love it and we are willing to do the work to restore it to what it should be (it's very, very old).
Work is work. I had a marathon grading session last weekend that lasted, I sh*t you not, 18 hours. It was awful. Husband is threatening to take the Bear and leave me if I ever do that again! (Maybe now he'll appreciate just how much I do around here. Hmmm.) Anyway, still liking the new job, although it was a full moon last week and that makes children a little nutty. Yeargh.
Finally, an answer to the nagging intense pain! I have a 2 cm kidney stone in my right kidney! It's centimeters, not millimeters. Go ahead, get a ruler. I did. That's really. freaking. big. So, am a little worried about this. No way is that coming out the old-fashioned way. No sir. Not happening. But, they can't break it up with the sound wave thingies that they use because I'm pregnant. So, my OB sent me to a urologist, and we'll see what happens after that visit.
The Bear is still not walking. I'm a little concerned about that, since she's almost 14 months now. Shouldn't she be walking? She'll take a few steps here and there, usually not more than four, but that's still decent progress, I suppose. Then, too, she's saying more and more words. She will poke my tummy and say "baby," she says "dark," "down," "bye," and "eye." Also "mom" and "da." She waves hi and bye, and will blow kisses and high-five on request. Also, when you ask her if she wants more food, she makes the sign for "more" and says "yeah!" She's been a lot of fun lately, and she's adjusting nicely to the new BearCave.
I'll be 17 weeks on Sunday. Feeling little pokes and flutters, but nothing too crazy. I felt the Bear at 15 weeks, and I swear about 13 weeks this time I could feel the bubbles. I'm only up about 5 pounds, which is great compared to last time (20 pounds by now). If it wasn't for the kidney, I'd be feeling great. That and the fact that I pass out on the couch every night about 8 p.m. I have some pretty strong boy vibes this time, which is interesting. We'll have to wait and see what comes out. I'm still waiting for the dream. Last time, I had the dream by about 20 weeks, and I knew the Bear was a girl. Hopefully I'll have a similar dream this time - it was really cool! There's a lot to be said for intuition. We have a nice boy name picked out, so I really am leaning that way. We'll just have to see!
Well, those are all the recent developments, I think. I'm back for good now, so no more 20+ day hiatuses (hiatii?) for me. Off to do more grading - bleargh.
Friday, September 02, 2005
Stir crazy
Ok, people. I'm going crazy here. I can't stand feeling like I'm sitting on my hands, doing nothing, just watching as so many people are suffering and dying. I feel like I have to do something. Now. Husband and I are by no means rich, but we are certainly blessed in that we have each other, our health, good jobs, and a healthy child. I can't help feeling guilty that I have so much when so many others have literally nothing, not even food and water.
Here's the deal. Husband and I just bought a house*. We're homeowners now. And it's big. We have extra rooms. Plural. I am a public school teacher in an excellent district, full of kind-hearted and concerned people. We live just a few states north of Mississippi and Louisiana (several hundred miles). We want to take in a family of Katrina refugees, provide them with food and clothes, let their children go to school, and help them to find jobs.
Problem is, there is so much conflicting information out there, and so many avenues of communication are still closed, that I can't find a good way to get this out there so we can let people know our doors are open. Does anyone out there know who I can contact to get the ball rolling on this? Any information you have would be so appreciated. Husband and I agree - we can't just sit here and not at least try to help someone less fortunate than ourselves.
If you have any advice, suggestions, or contact info, please leave it in a comment, or email me at:
visitjane (at) hotmail (dot) com
Or, if you have no idea what to do either, feel free to comment about what you're doing, thinking, feeling etc. I know we're all feeling helpless and scared at the moment.
*More about the house later. I don't feel like bragging today. But yay!
**Updated to add this tag for hurricane housing***
Subject: Emergency housing drive at www.hurricanehousing.org
I'm sure you've seen the horrifying images on TV of destruction left by Hurricane Katrina, and the many, many people left with nowhere to go.
You can help. MoveOn.org just launched a website, www.hurricanehousing.org, to connect your empty beds with hurricane victims who desperately need a place to wait out the storm.
You can post your offer of housing (a spare room, extra bed, even a decent couch) on http://www.hurricanehousing.org or search there for housing if you need it.
MoveOn will pass requests from hurricane victims or relief agencies on to volunteer hosts, who can decide whether or not to respond to a particular request. The host remains anonymous until they reply to someone looking for housing.
I just posted my own offer. I hope you will too, or pass this on to people you know in the Southeast:
http://www.hurricanehousing.org
Housing is most urgently needed within reasonable driving distance (about 300 miles) of the affected areas, especially New Orleans.
Thanks!
***end update***
Here's the deal. Husband and I just bought a house*. We're homeowners now. And it's big. We have extra rooms. Plural. I am a public school teacher in an excellent district, full of kind-hearted and concerned people. We live just a few states north of Mississippi and Louisiana (several hundred miles). We want to take in a family of Katrina refugees, provide them with food and clothes, let their children go to school, and help them to find jobs.
Problem is, there is so much conflicting information out there, and so many avenues of communication are still closed, that I can't find a good way to get this out there so we can let people know our doors are open. Does anyone out there know who I can contact to get the ball rolling on this? Any information you have would be so appreciated. Husband and I agree - we can't just sit here and not at least try to help someone less fortunate than ourselves.
If you have any advice, suggestions, or contact info, please leave it in a comment, or email me at:
visitjane (at) hotmail (dot) com
Or, if you have no idea what to do either, feel free to comment about what you're doing, thinking, feeling etc. I know we're all feeling helpless and scared at the moment.
*More about the house later. I don't feel like bragging today. But yay!
**Updated to add this tag for hurricane housing***
Subject: Emergency housing drive at www.hurricanehousing.org
I'm sure you've seen the horrifying images on TV of destruction left by Hurricane Katrina, and the many, many people left with nowhere to go.
You can help. MoveOn.org just launched a website, www.hurricanehousing.org, to connect your empty beds with hurricane victims who desperately need a place to wait out the storm.
You can post your offer of housing (a spare room, extra bed, even a decent couch) on http://www.hurricanehousing.org or search there for housing if you need it.
MoveOn will pass requests from hurricane victims or relief agencies on to volunteer hosts, who can decide whether or not to respond to a particular request. The host remains anonymous until they reply to someone looking for housing.
I just posted my own offer. I hope you will too, or pass this on to people you know in the Southeast:
http://www.hurricanehousing.org
Housing is most urgently needed within reasonable driving distance (about 300 miles) of the affected areas, especially New Orleans.
Thanks!
***end update***
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